


Batman/Joker Week!

by Harlecat



Series: Batman/Joker Fics [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-11 18:33:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1176468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harlecat/pseuds/Harlecat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following the prompts from Tumblr, my entries into the first official Batman/Joker week!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day 1: First Kiss

**Day One: First Kiss**

♥

There had been nothing special about that day. The Joker had always thought he would _know_ , when the right time finally came, but he didn’t, and he didn’t have anything new in mind when he slipped out of Arkham. He was thinking of robbing a bank. Or maybe kidnapping a billionaire. Haly’s Circus was coming to Gotham soon- maybe he could masquerade as a clown and kill the entire audience. Either way, he was going to have some fun with his Bat, but probably nothing out of the ordinary. It wasn’t time yet.

The Batman, on the other hand, woke up cold and drenched in sweat. A shower did nothing to wash the feeling away, and when the report came that the Joker had escaped from Arkham Asylum, he wasn’t even surprised. It certainly explained the shaky feeling he’d had earlier. _Another breakout, another crime spree, another night on the job_. He heard the sound of footsteps approaching, and turned.

“Coffee, sir?” Alfred set down his try. “And might I recommend you turn on the lights? The Cave is dark enough even when they’re on.”

“The Joker’s escaped from Arkham Asylum.”

“So I’ve heard. Cream?”

Bruce didn’t answer. Alfred sighed and, after flicking on a light switch, started to make his coffee.

“Any leads?” he asked, handing him a cup.  
“He hasn’t stepped out of the shadows yet,” Bruce accepted his cup. “But I intend to be there when he does.”

“Of course you do.”

Bruce took a sip of his coffee and said nothing.

“Well, I suppose there’s no rest for the weary.”

“Something’s different, Alfred.”

“And what makes you say that, Master Bruce?”

He didn’t reply.

“Well, I suppose I’ll have to start preparing for the Wayne Charity Ball. Which the host _will_ be attending come month’s end.”

Once again, Bruce didn’t speak.

Alfred sighed again and left the Cave, pausing to look back at Bruce. A single, dark, lonely figure hunched over in the glow of his computer screen.

_I worry about you, sir._

♠

The Joker had taken one look at the empty grounds, previously occupied by Haly’s Circus, and knew he’d found a new hideout. He barley even left the grounds after that, except for the occasional bank robbery. He was lying low. Under the radar. All that shit. He wasn’t _quite_ ready for Batman to show up- he had a feeling that he’d want the ferris wheel to be in working order. And his goons were working most of the day, polishing the mirrors in the funhouse. It just wasn’t a _real_ fight if the landscape wasn’t perfect. But he was starting to get worried. Batman still hadn’t shown.

Take money from banks. Eat Chinese food to-go. Steal more money. But still, his Batsy didn’t come. Part of him was annoyed.

Part of him loved it when he played hard to get.

♣

“What the _hell_ are you doing?”

Bruce Wayne turned around. The idiotic smile plastered on his face fell away instantly at the sight of Dick Grayson, with his arms folded, and a frown tugging at his lips.

He hurried to push the smile back up, and gestured to the girls hanging off his arms. “Dick, I’m trying to decide who to dance with!” One of the girls, a blonde, giggled.

“Well, I think you’re going to have to sit this one out.”

Looking disappointed, Bruce shrugged to them. “Sorry, girls. I have to have a chat with Mr. Grayson.”

The blonde pouted, and stood on her tiptoes to whisper something in Bruce’s ear. He laughed, and she trotted away. He turned back to Dick, the smile starting to fade.

“What’s this about?”

“Bruce, are you _not_ aware of the fact that the Joker’s robbed _five_ banks in the last _three_ days?”

Bruce’s smile vanished instantly. “Oh. That.”

“What the hell is wrong with you, Bruce? He’s right out in the open?”  
Bruce hesitated, then gestured to a table to the side of the ballroom. “Let’s sit down.”

Dick obeyed, and Bruce sat down across from him.

“So, what is it then? Why haven’t you gone after him?”

“I don’t want to kill him?”

Dick started to laugh, then realized Bruce was serious. _Of course_. “That’s the most pathetic excuse I’ve ever heard. I’m _aware_ that you don’t want to kill him. We all know about you _one rule_. So what’s your _real_ reason?”

“That’s the only one.”

“You’re _kidding_.”

Bruce looked troubled. “Dick, something’s different this time. Something’s going to change.”  
“Bruce, he’s done _horrible_ things, and you haven’t killed him. You’re not going to do it now when he’s just robbing banks.”

“I was going to go after him,” Bruce said reluctantly. “But I just- couldn’t.”

“You’re not _scared_?”

“Of course not.” Bruce glanced around the ballroom. “Alfred did a nice job with the Charity Ball, don’t you think?”

“No changing the subject.” Dick leaned forward. “You’ve got to go after him, Bruce. You’ve faced your fears plenty of times before, thanks to Scarecrow. And if the GCPD haven’t brought Joker in by now, they _can’t_ , so it’s up to you. And if you _don’t_ bring him in, he’ll do something that’ll justify your killing him. So I suggest you go after him _before_ that happens.”

_Hold up. Did I just give_ Bruce _advice?_  
Bruce sighed. “Sure, Dick.”

_I gave Batman advice!_ Dick smiled to himself. Being the advisor and not the advisee was pretty fun.

“You’re sticking around, aren’t you?” Bruce asked in what was clearly an obvious attempt to change the subject. “Alfred’s planned quite the firework spectacular.”

“When will you go after him?”  
Bruce’s shoulders sagged. “Tonight. But why don’t you do it?”  
“I’ve been pretty busy with the circus, and Nightwing-type stuff. See, there’s been some murders in Blüdhaven and-”  
“Bruce!” the blonde dropped into an empty chair at the table. “What’re we talking about?”

“Oh, my friend Dick is a detective in Blüdhaven.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Dick said.

“That’s so cool! Oh! I love this song! C’mon, Brucie!” She yanked him up and Bruce, casting an apologetic look at Dick, was dragged onto the dance floor.

Dick shook his head, grinning, and took a sip of champagne. He looked forward to reading the article about the Joker’s arrest.

♦

The Joker was sitting in his chair in the top floor of the funhouse when, purely by chance, he looked out the window and saw him, standing alone by the entrance to the fairgrounds. It looked like he was reading the Haly’s Circus poster.

He shrieked with delight and jumped up. _Finally!_ “Lar! Cur! Mo!” Grinning, he turned to find his favorite goons. “I want the Batman tied up, unconscious, and strapped to a chair in the Tunnel of Love in, oh... does five minutes work for you?”

It did. And Joker got to watch the fight from his window. He hurried downstairs and out of the funhouse, just in time to watch an unconscious Batman getting tied to one of the empty boats.

“‘Kay boys. Here’s the plan. _I’m_ going to get comfy-cozy in the ferris wheel with my handy-dandy microphone. And Batsy here is going to go for a little ride.”

Lar, Cur, and Mo nodded. Joker clapped with excitement and dashed for the ferris wheel.

_I knew oiling it was a good idea!_

“Let me know when he wakes up!” he screeched, climbing into one of the carts and starting the ferris wheel up. Cheesy carnival music started to play.

_Yippee!_

In a few hours, or maybe just a few minutes, he heard Mo yelling that Batman was awake. Joker nodded and immediately turned on his microphone. He was starting to get all _tingly_.

“So, Batsy, you’re _finally_ awake!” He giggled. “It seems like we always end up here, doesn’t it? You and me! Mano e mano!”

_“Where are you?”_

“Naughty, naughty. Some things are for me to know and you to deduce.”

_“I’ll find you.”_

“That’s the idea!” Joker chuckled. “Don’t you _love_ the Tunnel of Love? Cheap promises, corny decor, and anatomically incorrect hearts! All the things that make life great, right?”

_“What do you want?”_

“To chat, Batsy. After all, you’re just _so much fun_!”

No reply from Batman.

“ _Soooo._ You’re playing hard to get? I _love_ it when you do that! You’ve been doing it all month! Why? Bat in your belfry?” He tapped his foot impatiently. Still, no one talking. The ferris wheel came to a stop, his cart near the top.

“Still not feeling chatty? No matter. I’ll keep talking. You wanna hear a joke? Knock knock.”  
No answer.

“If you’re listening, say _jackrabbit_.”

No answer.

“Hell _ooo_? Batman?” He tapped the microphone. “Is this thing on? Piece of junk!” He tossed the microphone over the edge of his cart, and immediately regretted the decision. Not only would Batman have to look for him the old-fashioned way, he’d have to do so _without_ the Joker talking to him.

Joker sighed and cupped his hand in his chin. Now he bored _and_ lonely. What a terrific turn of events. He glanced around. It was kind of a pretty night. Shame he didn’t have any company.

And then came the voice.

“Found you.”

_So_ that’s _why the wheel stopped!_

He turned and was met immediately with a fist. He sprawled backward, over the edge of the cart. Batman’s hands were around his throat, and his nose was bleeding, and he was kicking and struggling and biting back a laugh-

And then, all of a sudden, he _knew_.

The time had come. The time to stop the fighting. The time to make his move.

He leaned forward and kissed him. Batman was completely unresponsive- like salty stone. Joker felt the hands disappear from his throat and Batman pushed him away, so that once again he was pressed up against the edge of the cart, chest heaving.

When he spoke, his voice was weak, and the words that came out didn’t feel like they belonged to him.

_“Sorry.”_

Batman stepped forward, and Joker shrank down, terrified. The night suddenly seemed very dark, and Batman suddenly seemed very, very tall. And dangerous. And completely uninterested in the Joker.

The image of him as a poor, rejected teenage girl flashed through his head.

Batman took another step closer, and Joker prepared for the beating of a lifetime.

_“Sorry.”_

Batman leaned forward.

_“Don’t be.”_

The Joker didn’t even have time to gasp before their lips met. Batman pushed up against him, one of his hands burning his lower back, the other in his hair. The Joker had the wonderful feeling that his lipstick was smudging, and he could _feel_ sparks flying.

But all too soon, Batman pulled away, and he was looking not at the Joker, but at the sky above him, almost smiling. Joker tipped his head back to see what he was looking at.

_Fireworks._

He sat back down and somehow, ended up curled up against Batman, watching them explode into what was easily the greatest fireworks spectacular he’d seen.

And then it appeared in a dazzling shade of red, as if someone had planned it.

“Look,” Batman said softly. “An anatomically incorrect heart.”

Joker frowned suddenly. “You didn’t _break_ the ferris wheel to get up here, did you?”

“Well...”

“So we’re stuck up here?”

“ _You’re_ stuck up here. _I_ know how to get down.”  
“Jerk!”

Looking sorry, Batman turned to face him. “It’s not so bad.”  
“No,” Joker smiled, snuggling into Batman’s side. “It isn’t bad at all.”

♥


	2. Day 2: A Padded Room for Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being framed for murder, Bruce wayne is proven to be the Batman, and is locked away in Arkham. Unfortunately for him, the doctors think it might be a good idea to play around… and he ends up with the worst possible roommate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: All of these stories take place in the same timeline, excepting this one (and possibly Wednesday’s, but I’m not sure about that one yet.) Thanks! -H

Bruce Wayne was still in shock.

First he was framed for murder, and the police had to come to investigate his house- which had proved he wasn’t a murderer but had also, unfortunately, led to the discovery of the Batcave. Which had led to his _arrest_.

As Jim had explained as he snapped handcuffs around his wrists, the police could turn a blind eye to Batman’s doings when they didn’t know who he was, but if they were _aware_ that Bruce Wayne had a vigilante night job, he had to be arrested. And then, his lawyer had interviewed him, one thing led to another, and he’d been put in Arkham Asylum.

But it got worse.

Thanks to his _vigilante night-job_ , most of the cells were full, and because one of the doctors wanted to _experiment_ , he was put in a double cell.

With the _Joker_.

Oh, he was asleep _now_ , but he spent most of his time chattering away about anything and everything. He went into great detail about his plans to bomb the city, which was just as annoying as it was informative, and at one point started to ask him how he should go about kidnapping the mayor. He rambled on and _on_ about anything and _everything_ , pausing just often enough to make it feel like he was trying to conduct a conversation. And even when he was asleep, he snored most of the time.

Bruce groaned and pulled his pillow over his head. He would willingly sit through a life sentence in Arkham if he could just _have his own cell_. Or even one without this _lunatic_ in it. He’d take the Riddler, Two-Face, Scarecrow, Killer _fucking_ Croc any day over this psychopath.

The Joker gave a loud snort and mumbled a complex math formula in his sleep. Batman pulled the pillow off his head and propped himself up to stare at the clown.

He was curled up under one of the thin Arkham blankets, his hair mussed up. He was clutching his pillow tightly to his chest.

He snorted again, and snuggled deeper into his pillow. “Batman,” he mumbled, and Bruce sat up.

Joker hugged the pillow tight to his chest and this time, he didn’t say ‘Batman.’ He said _“Bruce.”_

He buried his face into the pillow and whispered his name again. Bruce squinted at him. His hair was wet- he was sweating, despite the cold in the Arkham cell, and it looked like his cheeks were wet.

Maybe... maybe he should wake him up?

Bruce sighed and pushed himself, crossing over to the cot on the other side of the cell.

 _Maybe I shouldn’t. He_ definitely _read something into it._

The Joker was starting to look agitated. Batman reached down and touched his shoulder. One of his clammy hands clapped onto it instantly, and he curled up.

Joker moaned softly and pulled the pillow close to him, clutching at it with stick-thin arms. “Don’t go.”

Batman sat down, without moving his arm. “I won’t.” He thought for a moment. What had Alfred done for him when he had nightmares? What had he done for Dick, Jason, Tim?

He  sighed and stroked the Joker’s hair. _I can't believe I'm doing this._  “It’s alright.”

“Don’t leave.” Batman pulled his hand back.

“I _can’t_ leave, remember? We’re locked in a room together.”

“Don’t-”

“I won’t. Don’t worry. It’s just a bad dream.”

And then, the Joker did the unthinkable.

He woke up.

Slowly, he opened his frosty green eyes, and met Bruce’s.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

"Um-"

"What the  _hell_ are you doing?"

“Waking you up.”

“Why?”  


“You were having a bad dream.”

“So?”

Bruce opened his mouth, then closed it. He didn’t have an answer. “You... you said my name in it.”

The Joker sat up, casually sliding Bruce’s hand from his shoulder to his knee. He cupped his chin in his hand and stared at him, rather intently.

“Why should you care?”

Bruce shrugged.

“You shouldn’t, _B-man._ You’re not supposed to.”

Bruce sighed. “Joker, I’ll be blunt. I hate you.”

“That’s sweet of you.”

"With every bit of my existence."

"Awww."

“ _But_ -”

“There’s a but?”

“But, we’re cellmates now, and we’re going to have to live with each other. Which is impossible, in my case, because you never _shut up_ , but the way I see it, we should at least try not to murder each other each night.”

Joker tilted his head, then patted the space of cot beside him. “Sit.”  


Bruce obliged.

“Now, Brucey-bat, I’m going to let you in on a little secret. I do not hate you.”

“I’ve heard this speech before.”

“Shut up. I am, as I’ve intoned before, rather fond of you.”

“Yes, but it’s been a bit hard to take you seriously, between the name and youe trying to kill me.”

The Joker chuckled, wrapping his arm around Bruce’s.

“Cell mates are supposed to look out for each other,” he said suddenly.

Joker smiled. “Sounds good. You look out for me. I look out for me too.”

“Very funny.”

The Joker giggled, and rested his head on Bruce’s shoulder. It felt a bit nice to be near the Joker- when he wasn’t trying to kill him, that is. He put his hand on his knee again.

“I’ll look out for you if you look out for me,” Joker said softly.

“Deal.”


	3. Day 3: Anniversary

**Day Three: Anniversary**

 

Bruce found the dining room empty. There was coffee in the pot, so he poured himself a cup and sat down at the vacant table and took a few sips, looking around. He heard the Joker creep into the kitchen but didn’t react. Giggling, the Joker pressed his hands over his eyes.

“I could turn around and knock you out if I wanted to.”

_“Batsy!”_

Bruce had another sip of coffee, and heard shuffling around the kitchen. When the sounds stopped, the Joker planted a kiss on the top of his head and pulled his hands away. The table had been piled with platters of food. Two clumsily-wrapped presents sat in front of him.

“Happy anniversary, darling!”

Bruce gaped. The Joker crossed around so he could squint at him.

“Don’t tell me you forgot.”

Bruce closed his mouth, and did his best to look terrified.

_“Broo-ooce.”_

He smiled. “Your presents in the Cave.”

Shrieking with delight, the Joker ran out of the dining room. Bruce made himself a plate of cheesy eggs, bacon, and donuts. He munched on a creme while he waited for the Joker to return.

He came back dragging a neatly-wrapped rectangle that reached up to his waist, with a smaller-rectangle taped to it.

“Brucey! Like I don’t know it’s a piano!”  
Bruce chuckled and took another bite of his donut. Joker plucked it out of his hand.

“No! Presents first, breakfast later!”

“Sure,” Bruce agreed. “But I want my donut back.”

“Me first!” Joker clapped, dropping the donut back on Bruce’s plate.

“Open the bigger one.”

The Joker cackled and grabbed the larger one, tearing the wrapping off. He screamed with delight.

“My giant Joker card! You kept it?”

Bruce smiled into his coffee. The Joker hugged the card, grinning.

“That’s your card, not the present.”

“Now the tiny one!” The Joker snatched it up and ripped off the paper. He lifted the lid of the box and stopped dead. “Bruce?”

Bruce set his cup down. _Doesn’t he like it?_

Joker raced around the table and sat himself down in his lap. He cupped Bruce’s face in his hands and kissed him.

“I love it,” he whispered, then skipped around to pick his present back up. He pulled the knife Bruce had given him out of the box and twirled it in his fingers.

“It’s beautiful.” He examined it, and his jaw dropped. “What’s this on the hilt?”

Batman grinned into his cup.

“A ring! Brucey, you shouldn’t have!” Joker squeaked and yanked the ring off the hilt to slide it on. “Now you!”  
Laughing, Bruce pulled one of the Joker’s presents closer toward him.

❣

“Hello.”

Bruce was in uniform, his cape blowing in the wind. The ground was hard and cold, the grass brown, and the grave in front of him looked unusually bleak.

“This feels weird. I’m talking to a rock. I don’t know if you can hear me. I hope you can. I’d feel quite idiotic if you couldn’t.”

He placed the roses he’d brought against the tombstone. “I brought you flowers. I couldn’t find your favorites, but roses _are_ romantic. And they’re dyed purple. Your favorite color.”

The wind seemed to get a little bit quieter. Batman reached into the bag at his feet and pulled out the old knife he’d given the Joker years ago. He drove it into the frozen earth. “And here’s your knife. I thought you... might want it.”

“And I got you some presents.” Bruce pulled the wrapped gift out of the bag and set it down. “Worth every penny, even though-”

He swallowed, and sat down in front of the tombstone. “I almost forgot your card.” He pulled the Joker card out of the bag and laid it down, gently. He sighed, and closed his eyes.

“I miss you. Gotham just isn’t the same. The Manor feels completely empty, and I can’t hear you laughing in the hallways. And I’m alone in the Cave most of the time, and it feels quiet. It’s always quiet. And I just- I just- I want you to come back. I can’t take you being-”

Bruce broke off and looked up at the sky. It was perfectly white. Sooner or later, it would be snowing. He reached forward and touched the gravestone, pressing his palm flat against it.

He sat there and breathed. Time passed by.

“It’s getting late. I should probably get going soon. It’s a big, bad city out there. That’s what you always said, anyway.”

He didn’t move. More time went by.

“It’s hard. Knowing I won’t see you again. I won’t ever hear you laugh again. It’s strange.”

With difficulty, Bruce rearranged his face into a smile. It felt horribly fake.

“Happy anniversary.”  
He stood and walked away. Once his back was to the grave, the smile slipped off his face.

He kept hearing his voice, apologizing.

_Sorry._

_Sorry._

He could still see him, pressed up against the edge of the ferris wheel cart.

_Sorry._

_Sorry._

Bruce froze and glanced back at the grave.

“I’m sorry.”


	4. Day 2: Voyeur

**Day Four: Voyeur**

 

Giggling, the Joker put the binoculars to his eyes and looked through them again, squinting at the apartment across the alleyway. Cat-thing still hadn’t noticed the Bat standing in the corner. He was lurking in the shadows by her door, and she was pulling off her skin-tight costume, squirming as she slipped it over her bra, and wiggling it off her legs. The Joker tried to suppress a laugh at the thought of the Bat watching _him_ change. He’d probably let him, and would taunt him about it later.

Catwoman, though, was blissfully unaware of the bat _and_ the clown as she took off her underwear (the Joker dropped to the ground in silent laughter) and slipped into pajamas. She bent over, and the Joker was _pretty_ sure he saw Batman eying the visible skin.

Batman said something and stepped out of the shadows. Cat-lady turned and took a step forward, crossing her arms. The Joker flipped on his headset, so he could listen to their conversation.

“... Scare a girl. How long have you been there?”

“Long enough.”

Catwoman turned away, stooping over again. Of course she didn’t think Batman had watched her _naked_. She thought Batman was _perfect_.

He’d thought that too, on top of the ferris wheel. He’d thought it as Batman carried him down, and then, he’d clearly remembered something important.

“Are you alright?”

“It just occurred to me that you’ve spent the past week robbing banks.”

“Ah. That.” Which was how he’d ended up back in Arkham. Batman had apologized, then adopted a more flirtatious air, which involved telling him that it was his own fault.

“Darling, you could have stopped me at any time.”

“A- _self control,”_ Batman coughed.

Of course, it had only taken Joker a few days to break out, and he’d spent all of his time since then spying on Batman. But this was the Bat’s first trip to Cat-lady’s house, and he had to say, he was pretty excited. He was pretty sure they were going to... do stuff. Lots of stuff. And he was equal parts interested and intrigued.

“Honey,” Catwoman was saying. “I have no idea wh-”

They stepped out of his microphones range. Disappointed, the Joker pressed the binoculars harder against his eyes.

Batman had his arms crossed and looked stoic, almost chilly- unmoving. Catwoman touched his chin and walked in a circle behind him.

_I wonder if she’s figured out he was watching her change?_

The two figures got tangled up for a minute, Batman’s cold presence vanishing. Then he shoved her away and said something, looking agitated. Catwoman took a step away from him, and shouted loudly enough that the Joker could hear her.

_“Like_ hell _it is!”_

_“Selina, I-”_ He said something quietly.

_“What kind of slut do you think I am?”_

The Joker turned off the headset. He was beginning to feel like he was intruding.

_“I know what you’ve been getting up to! It’s a shame I had to hear it from Red Hood and not you! Him! Of call people!”  
“Selina-”_

She slapped him across the face. _“Get the hell out of my house!”_

_Oooh._ The Joker watched eagerly as Batman clambered out onto the fire escape.

_“No! Fuck you! You’re using the goddamn door!”_

She yanked Batman in by his cape, half-dragged him across the room, and shoved him out of her door. Panting, she locked it, and headed over to do the same to her window. Along her way, she managed to pick up two cats.

The Joker dropped his binoculars when he realized she was looking directly at him, and waved nervously.

She waved back, then lifted her middle finger, and yanked the curtains closed.

The Joker sighed. Sometimes, Batman really was perfect.

_And,_ he reminded himself. _Currently single._


	5. Day 5: Lipstick and Bruises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's getting harder for him.

**Day Five: Lipstick and Bruises**

 

It was getting harder for him.

Bruce could tell. He was more on edge than ever before. He’d made a mistake, giving him the knife. After all, on their anniversary, they hadn’t just been celebrating a year together- it had also been a year since the Joker had killed anyone. At first his difficulties had been more obvious. He’d been helping Bruce with his ‘night job’ and every so often he’d see him stop a crook, or a goon, or _someone_ \- and he’d keep his hands around his throat for a moment longer than he needed to, or cut deeper than necessary. Then he got better at hiding his struggle, and eventually he told Bruce he wouldn’t be helping Batman anymore.

“It just isn’t right for me,” was his explanation, but that night Bruce found him in the Cave, staring forlornly at the Batmobile.

And in the week after their anniversary, Bruce saw him doing little things. Nicking himself with his razor. Dropping things. He took a sudden interest in lighting candles, and every time he did so, he managed to burn his fingers. Whether he was hurting himself on purpose or by accident, he had no idea.

The next week, an abandoned warehouse exploded. The bomber was never identified, and there was no way it could’ve been the Joker- he’d been with Bruce that day- but when it came on the news, he had something in his eyes that looked guilty, and hungry, and all too familiar. He found plans for a warehouse exactly like the one that had exploded in his desk.

_I’m trying too hard. It’s like I_ want it _to be him. He’s probably fine._

Later that week, a condemned building was set on fire. Some of Gotham’s homeless population had been living there illegally- five of them died, and seven were badly injured. The Joker watched the news, looking guiltier and hungrier, twirling his knife between his hands. He didn’t notice when it slipped, and Bruce had to grab his hand and stop the blood flow.

“Are you alright?”  
“I’m fine.”

The week after that, a sparse apartment building went sky-high. He couldn’t find the Joker anywhere.

“Sir,” Alfred started as Bruce ate dinner alone. “Has it occurred to you that the Joker-”

“It has,” Bruce said. He stood and went to get a bottle of wine from the cabinet.

“Master Bruce-”

He poured himself a tall glass of wine. He didn’t normally drink, but right now, he wanted something harder than water.

“It can’t be him, Alfred.” He downed the entire glass. “It can’t be.”

The next week, it was a hospital.

❣

“Joker.” Bruce’s voice came out more ragged than he’d intended. The clown was sitting on the edge of Wayne Tower’s roof, his legs hanging out over the sky, watching yet another explosion. He was wearing the purple suit.

“Brucey-bat.”

He crossed over to stand behind him. “I’d hoped it wouldn’t be you.” He glanced down to see that he wasn’t wearing the gloves that matched his suit- his hands were bare, except for the ring around his finger. The ring Bruce had given him. He was toying with a joker card.

“I thought about leaving one at the buildings,” he said. “I really, really wanted to. But I didn’t want you to know it was me.”  
Bruce removed his cape and put it around the Joker’s shoulders. He pulled up his knees, tugging the cape around him.

“I didn’t want you to know I was going back down that road.”  
“You’re not. We’re going to get you help.”  
 _“No.”_ The Joker said sharply. “I’m not going to Arkham.”

“Okay.” Bruce sat down next to him.

“I’m not that guilty.”

“At least you feel sorry.”

“But I don’t. I don’t feel sorry at all. Not about the buildings. I’m sorry for letting you down.”

“I should have been more supportive.”

“You were perfect. I’m the one who screwed it all up.” He sighed. “I suppose you will have to take me back to Arkham.”

“Joker-”

“I tried so hard.” His voice wobbled. “I did everything I could think of, to try and keep from killing people. I took karate. I trained in your Cave. I picked as many fights as I could.”

“With who?”  


The Joker snorted. “My _friends._ By the way, Harvey’s hanging around Second Street. You’re welcome.” He sighed again, and hid his head between his legs. “But- none of that worked.”

“If you’d just talked to me-”  


“I even tried hurting myself.” He raised his head again, and Bruce saw that he was crying. “Just so I wouldn’t kill anyone.”

Bruce grabbed his arm immediately and rolled up the sleeve. The Joker’s arm was bruised and bloody.

“I’m sorry.”

He turned and punched the Joker in the face. He fell, and Bruce grabbed him by the shoulders so he wouldn’t lose his balance.

“Don’t fall.” His voice shook, and he pulled the Joker closer to him. He buried his face in his shoulder.

“If you’d just talked to me-”

The Joker looked up, his face bleak and desperate. A small part of Bruce cracked in half.

He closed the gap between them. When he finally pulled away, lipstick was smudged over the Joker’s face. A bruise was forming on his cheek where he’d hit him. A tiny, odd part of him was almost proud- at least the Joker had one mark that he hadn’t caused himself.

“I have to take you back.”

The Joker nodded, and pulled the ring off. “This is yours.”

“I gave it to you.”  
“And I’m asking you to hold onto it for me. You can keep it in your belt.”

Bruce took the ring and tucked it into an empty compartment in his belt. “Let’s go.”

The Joker stood clumsily, and grabbed ahold of Bruce. He fired a grappling hook into the sky and swung away, the Joker clinging to him. They were going where they’d gone so many times before. Only this time, everything was different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry.


	6. Day 6: Be My Valentine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: I’m not as fond of this as I am of the others, but it could have turned out much worse.

**Day Six: Be My Valentine**

 

“It came this morning, sir.”

Bruce frowned at the pink envelope. “And you’re sure it’s for me.”

“I’m near certain, Master Bruce. After all, it’s addressed to you.” And it was. 

“Who sent it?”

Jason leaned across the table, shoveling eggs into his mouth. “Maybe I’m just hallucinating,” he said. “But that looks like a _clue_ on the front.” Written in red ink across the front of the paper was _To my Bat, from J_.

“Too bad it won’t get-” Tim was interrupted by the sound of torn paper. “-opened.”

“Bruce,” Dick said. “Does that mean he knows who you are?”

“Correction,” Jason waved his fork in the air. “Who _we_ are. And probably.”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with... what you had to talk to _Catwoman_ about?”  
Bruce held up a finger. “He wrote an address.

“What else did he write?” Jason asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. “A poem?”

Tim snatched the heart-shaped card from Bruce’s hands. “He did.”  
“I was _joking_!”

“‘Bats are black. Eyes are blue. I’d like to spend today with you.’ That’s kind of cute.”

“Yeah,” Jason rolled his eyes. “I’m _squealing_ with excitement. What’s the body count? There’s got to be a body count.”  
“He’s been out of the asylum for just under a month,” Dick shrugged. “No body count.”  
“Don’t tell me Arkham’s _working_?”

“It’s not Arkham,” Dick and Tim both said, looking at Bruce. He was too busy looking at the card to notice them.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred said. “Master Bruce! If you’re done staring at the card, your date for the day is supposed to meet you in several hours.”  
“What’s her name again?”

“Kimmy.”

“Tell Kiki I’ll have to cancel.” Bruce stood. “I’m going to go meet the Joker.”

“You going to the Cave?” Tim asked.

Bruce took his jacket off the coat stand and walked out the front door.”

❣

At a cheap-looking apartment building on Twenty-second Street, he buzzed up to Room 331.

_“Hellooooo?”_

“Five dollars a month is out of your budget. I don’t know how you afforded this place.”

_“Bruuuuuucey-bat!”_

“Or how you figured that out.”

_“Are you in_ uniform _?”_

“Either way, you’re probably going back to Arkham.”

_“Cute. I’ll buzz you in.”_

When Bruce woke up two hours later, he couldn’t see. “Joker,” he growled.

“Okay, first I want to apologize. It’s a force of habit. It _really_ is. I didn’t mean to knock you out, it just kinda happened. Second, I want to let you know that this is probably the first time I have a really good reason for blindfolding you, so play along please, okay?”

“Get this thing off of me.”

“Get it off yourself.”

Bruce went to do so, surprised to find that he wasn’t tied up.

“I’d appreciate it if you kept your eyes closed.”

He wasn’t sure why, did. He kept them shut until he felt something touch his shoulders, then he opened them. He was sitting in front of a small, banged-up wooden table. An uneven piece of lace was laid over it, with two plates- one in front of him, and one across from him. In the center was a cup with several wilted flowers in it. With a jolt, he realized that the Joker had buried his nose into his hair.

“What’s all this?”

“Dinner. Or lunch. I’m pretty sure it’s lunch.”

“Why?”  
“I’m asking you to be my valentine.”

_“Why?”_

“I’m not going to lie to you, Brucey.” The Joker moved into view, and produced a rose. “You’re pretty hot, and _darling,_ I really, really want to make out with you again.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, right. And you’ve got a great personality. Also, I figured that if we’re dating, you might not always bring me into Arkham. There are lots of more, ah, _interesting_ places in the city.”

“How do you know who I am.”

“Easy. Bruce Wayne is _probably_ the most well-known person in Gotham-”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh. That.” Joker twirled the rose between his fingers. “Funny story.”

“My favorite.”

“Drop the attitude, honey.” He leaned forward and Bruce’s breath caught in his throat, but all the Joker did was tuck the rose behind his ear. He sat down across the Bruce. “Did I ever tell you about the time the bat snuck into the cat’s house?”

Bruce groaned quietly.

“No, it’s a good one. They had their biggest argument yet, not knowing that the fish was watching the whole time!”

“Who’s the fish?”

“Me.”

“ _You’re_ the fish?”

“Yes.”

_“Why?”_

“Ooh. That’s another funny story. But you know that one. So!” The Joker clapped his hands. “On the menu tonight, we were supposed to have steak and potatoes, but then I went broke. So instead I snuck into Starbucks and made two hot chocolates, which I’m pretty sure are popsicles by now, then I went to Safeway and got us donuts, and then I went to some other places- basically we’re eating barbecued ribs, mac n’ cheese, and several random pastries I managed to collect. And they’re probably all stale. Dig in!”

Half-believing this was some sort of joke, Bruce lifted the lid to his plate, and saw all of the things the Joker had listed- a single rib, a few spoonfuls of macaroni, and a donut and an eclair. The Joker’s plate had even less food on it.

“So... you’re _positive_ Batman is Bruce Wayne...”

“Yep.”

“And there’s no way I’m talking you out of this?”

“The date or your identity?”

“Both of them.”

“No.”  


Bruce sighed and stood up. “We’re going back to my place.”

“Really?”

“Yes. And if you’re lucky, we’ll talk about a relationship.”

The Joker squealed and grabbed onto Bruce’s arm, following him out of the small apartment, down the stairs, and out the front door.

He called Alfred, explained that his date had moved to Wayne Manor (and that it wasn’t Kimmy) and then let the Joker pick the radio station.

“I like this. _No!_ This! Ahhhh! This is such a great- _I like this one too!”_

A few moments of awkward silence came after that.

“By the way,” the Joker said after a few minutes. “We should probably talk about you abusing your Bat-powers to watch girls change.”

“What?”

“I _saw_ your breakup with Cat-lady. _And_ I saw what happened beforehand.”

“I didn’t know she was going to change!”

“Of course not,” the Joker said soothingly, then giggled. He was still holding onto Bruce’s arm. “That night on the ferris wheel...”

“What about it?”

“Nothing.”

Bruce shifted his arm, so that the Joker was holding his hand. “No killing people.”

“I know. I’ve been good. Haven’t you noticed.”

Bruce pulled over on the side of the road. “Do we have a deal?”

“Yes. No killing people.”

“Or maiming.”

“Of course not. I’ll try and keep away from robbery, too.”

Bruce leaned over and pressed his lips against the Joker’s cheek. “So, do we have a deal?”

“Well, when you ask so _nicely_...” the Joker whispered, and pulled Bruce into a kiss. He ended up with his head in his lap, the Joker grinning as he petted his hair.

“This is really uncomfortable.”

“It’s your mistake.”

“I can’t have a sore back when I abolish crime.”

The Joker sighed, and let Bruce get up. “You’re no fun.”

Bruce stepped on the gas and soon, they were approaching Wayne Manor. “How do you want to go inside? The Bat-way or the Bruce-way?”

“I don’t really care. As long as we get to eat.” 

Bruce and the Joker walked in through the front door. Alfred glanced at the Joker and raised a cynical eyebrow.

“The boys are all out, sir.”

“Smart of them.”

“Could we get some food?” The Joker asked, and quickly added on, “Please.”

Alfred glanced at Bruce. “Food would be great. I’m pretty sure he hasn’t eaten in a few days. And he might be needing a room, too.”

“I’ll alert your well-equipped staff.”

“How many people are working for you?” The Joker hissed as they sat down.

“I have _no_ idea.” He stopped to consider this. “I’m pretty sure it’s just him.”

When Alfred came back, the chairs were no longer across the table from each other. He sighed and set the food down- not that they noticed.


	7. Day 7: In the End, it's Just You and Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes/Warnings: Explains events in Day Three: Anniversary (translation: Major character death) me being heartless, and I am so, so sorry.
> 
> Also, if you can recall the first sentence of the first day… that be pretty cool of you.
> 
> Sorry again. -H

**Day Seven: In the End, it’s Just You and Me**

  

Bruce woke up drenched in sweat. He didn’t even need to look outside the window, but he did, and sure enough- _there was the bat-signal._ He sprung out of bed and downstairs (and then down another, more secret set of stairs) and soon the Batmobile was racing through the city.

It took him longer than expected to get to the police station, but he realized that he was taking a longer route that went by Arkham Asylum- _where the Joker was-_ and had to turn around. He was already going through a list of possibilities. _Two-face Riddler Ventriloquist Penguin New Guy Hatter Zsasz..._

He landed on the station’s roof and slid out of the shadows to face Commissioner Gordon and Harvey Bullock. “What is it this time?”

“The Joker,” Bullock said immediately, lighting a cigar. “Body count already on the rise.”

_There’s a body count?_

“When did he break out?”

“Four hours ago,” Gordon answered, shutting off the Bat-signal. “Plenty of guards and inmates dead.”

_Inmates?_ “Who?”

“Quinn, for one.”

_Harley._ Batman clenched his fists.She had gone with him and the Joker to see a movie once. “Anyone else?”

“Riddler and Two-Face are injured, Scarecrow is pretty out of whack, I heard that one of Freeze’s arms got cut off-”

“How many, in total?”

Commissioner Gordon paused. “We’re not entirely sure, but at last count... eighty.”

“In four hours?”

“No, that’s... just from Arkham.”

Batman swore. “Warn the public. Keep your men away from it. This is between me and him.”

“Batman-”

He was gone.

⚖

When the sun rose, Batman was forced to return home, with no idea where the Joker was, and even more people dead. He parked the Batmobile and saw a form slumped by the Bat-computer.

He walked over, almost smiling. “Dick, you really should be in bed.” He stopped over Dick. “I don’t care if you’re an adult, as your legal guardian, I’ll have to force you to get some sleep. Dick?” He placed his hand on his shoulder. It was ice cold.

It suddenly struck Bruce how quiet it was. _“Dick?”_

He grabbed him and spun him around. His eyes were open. _“Dick! Nightwing!”_ He started to feel for a pulse. _“Alfred!”_

There were footsteps and Alfred appeared. “Sir, it- _Master Richard_!”

The pulse was there, but it was faint. Almost gone. Bruce flipped Dick onto the ground and started to press against his chest. “Come on, come on, come _on._ ”

There were more footsteps and Jason emerged. “What’s all the-” His eyes landed on Dick. “-noise? Dick?”

Jason sprinted down and pushed Bruce out of the way, performing CPR on Dick. He pumped up and down on his chest, and then tried to breathe life into him.

“I’ll call the hospital!” Alfred turned and hurried back up the stairs.

_“Dick! Dick!”_ Jason screamed.

It was then Bruce saw something, resting by the keyboard, when Dick had been sitting. He picked up a green card, with a crude flower drawn on the front. He opened it up to find a single word. _Sorry_.

And then, written in shaky handwriting: _To, Bats. Love, J._

He set the card down. Jason gave up trying to save Dick, and sat up.

“He’s- I-” He closed his eyes and pulled his knees tight. “Do we know what- did someone- I-”

“Sir?” Alfred reappeared. “I called the paramedics. We might want to get Master Richard out of the Cave.”

Shaking, Jason stood up, and picked up Dick. Bruce took his feet and they carried him out of the Cave, into the Manor, and laid him down in his bed.

Bruce went to change out of his costume, then came back. Jason was still sitting next to Dick’s bedside, holding onto his hand.

“I reviewed the security tapes,” Alfred started, seeing Bruce. “Master Bruce-”

Bruce pulled the card out from his pocket and stared at it. Alfred fell silent.

“It was him, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What did he do?”

“It looked like his Joker toxin, but with a different effect than usual. Almost untraceable.”

Bruce crumpled the card up in his hand. “I’m going after him.”

“Wait-” Jason stumbled over his words. “Wait until t-tonight.” He met Bruce’s eyes, blue against blue. “It’s what you would tell m-me to do.”

Bruce nodded, and turned back to Alfred. “Where’re the boys?”

“At school, sir.”

“Go pick them up. And call Barbara, and the Titans, and- everyone. Alert everyone.”

There was the sound of a siren, and Jason went streaking out of the room. A few moments later he returned with paramedics at his side.

“Shall I take them straight to Gotham General?”

“Yes.”

By the time the sun set, a small crowd had gathered, huddled by his bedside. It was the strangest group of people, including a wheel chaired-girl with sleek scarlet hair, and another with mounds of orange locks. There was a boy who’s skin had an almost _green_ tint to it, and a ginger boy, a girl whose hood covered her face in darkness, an ebony-haired girl, and then there were the three boys lurking in the corner. They were all near-identical, with the same dark hair and the same blue eyes, though the youngest’s skin was just a shade darker than the other’s.

“Were- were you his brothers?” a nurse asked, after great hesitation.

The youngest folded his arms. “We _are_.”  
“I- I’m very sorry. I remember seeing his family in show once, they were very-” she turned and shuffled away. “They were very good.”

⚖

Richard John Grayson was dead, and someone had hell to pay.

Bruce would have gone after him the moment the sun started moving toward the horizon, but first he had to shake off the boys, asking- _begging-_ him to let them come too, and then, when the Batmobile was finally out of the Cave, the signal went up into the sky.

Gnashing his teeth, he turned around and drove toward the police station, giving little to no regard for traffic laws. He swerved around a corner, narrowly missing the curb, and zoomed right by a red light. In several moments, he was at the roof.

He’d been expecting Gordon. He’d been expecting Harvey Bullock. Billy Petit, Renee Montoya, _a police officer_ to be waiting for him, with a new number, and a lead on the Joker’s location.

_Good. We need to have a nice, long_ talk.

Instead, he got _him_ , the man he’d been planning on hunting down, waiting for him, sitting on the edge of the Bat-signal like he did this every night.

Trembling, Bruce stepped out of the shadows, and shut off the signal. “What the _hell_ do you want?”

The Joker turned to face him. “I-”

Bruce didn’t give him time to answer- he swung his fist forward and the Joker fell off the signal, landing on the ground.

“Bruce, I-”

“ _Dick_!” he screamed. “My _friend_!”

The Joker stood, wiping a trail of blood from his chin. _“Batsy-”_

“My _son_!” Bruce slammed into him again, his foot catching under his chin. “He wasn’t even in costume and you _killed him!”_

The Joker raised his hands, backing away. “Can we just talk about this?”

“No!” Batman charged him again, and the Joker ducked his punch. “We are not going to _talk_ about this!” He missed the Joker again. When he spoke again, his voice was like shattered glass. “I trusted you!”

“I know.”

_“Why?”_

The Joker lit up, a smile taking over his face- and not the sweet, gentle smile Bruce had grown used too. The hauntingly familiar _old one_.

“I wanted to remind you!”

“Remind me of _what_?”

“That we’re _two_ of a _kind.”_ The Joker leaned forward, and for a moment Bruce thought he was going to kiss him. “I’ve forgotten something over the last year, _Batsss,_ but now I remember.” He brought his hands up to his face, holding him in place. “In the end, it’s just the two of us, face to face. The body counts doesn’t _matter_ , the dead don’t _matter_ , the flames all around us _don’t matter_ , because in the end there is no Gotham. No Dickybird. No Bat-family and no Alfred and no Wayne Manor. In the end, Batsy...”  His lips brushed his cowl, right by his ears, his voice little more than a whisper. “In the _end_ , it’s just _you and me._ ”

And then the explosions started.

And Bruce did remember.

He remembered the small, purple calendar hanging by the Joker’s bed, the way he would mark each day he went without killing someone with a star. He remembered sitting by the computer, with the Joker in his lap, looking up how addicts stayed sober, because every little trick helped. He remembered the ferris wheel, and Valentine’s Day, and their anniversary dinner, and the _ring_ , and the _knife_... If only he could turn back the clock and take back that knife, take back that ferris wheel...

But no, he couldn’t. And if he did have the choice, he knew he wouldn’t. So many lives had been saved that year because the Joker was with him, and one of those lives just might have been his own. He remembered the past year being wonderful, he remembered the Joker’s smile and- _and what if he never saw that smile again?_

And then, the Joker’s hands slid upward, slipping off his mask, and this time their lips did meet.

But it was all wrong.

The Joker must have felt it, or maybe he saw it in his eyes, because he pulled away, his green eyes raging.

“Just as I thought,” he snarled, reaching into his jacket. _His lipstick was smeared._

“What?”

“You don’t _love me._ ”

“I did. I do. I-” the Joker pulled a gun out from his jacket, and held it in front of him. “Let me help you-”

“You. Don’t. _Love me_!” The gun was moving now. “You love the nice, pretty, _watered-down_ version of me. And that. Isn’t. _Me!”_

“Joker-”

“Well, Bruce?!” he shouted, jerking the gun out of safety. “Would you still love me _if I burnt the city down_?”

_“Please-”_

_“Would you?!”_

“Let me help you!”

_“No!”_ With his free hand, the Joker swatted Bruce’s outstretched hand away. “I don’t _want_ your help!” His fingers were slipping toward the trigger. “I don’t _want_ to be a part of your precious _Bat-family_ , I don’t _want_ to be another _hero_ -”

“Then what _do_ you want? Please-”

_“You!”_ The Joker shrieked. He squeezed down on the trigger. _“I want you!”_

_“Please.”_ Bruce said, hoping it would be enough.

It wasn’t.

He dove off the building, wind whistling past his face, and he pulled his cowl on mid-fall. He dropped on the ground next to the splayed body.

His neck and leg were at unnatural angles, his wrist snapped backward, the gun having spun out of his hand. A small, red hole was carved into his forehead where the bullet had entered, _his green eyes_ , looking up at the world but not seeing.  A halo of blood spread around his head, and it was so _dark_ against his white skin-

Bruce’s body shook with the effort of not screaming. He knelt and checked for a pulse.

Already dead.

It wasn’t as if someone could survive a shot to the head and a fall from a building, anyway.

He pressed his lips to the Joker’s cold cheek and stood. With an eerie calmness, he walked over to the Batmobile and closed the door. He pulled his cowl back off, rubbed his temples, and pulled his legs up.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed, but eventually he moved again, stepping on the gas and driving out of the alleyway. He forced himself to stop and get the body. He laid the Joker in the backseat, pointedly not looking at his face. He then got back into his seat and sat for another five minutes before slowly driving out of Gotham and back to the manor.

_You. Don’t. Love me! You love the nice, pretty, watered-down version of me. And that. Isn’t. Me! Well?!_

He gripped the steering wheel tightly.

_Would you still love me if I burnt the city down?_

And the worst part of all, the part that made Bruce feel sick to his stomach, the part that really killed him was that the answer was _no_.

_I’m sorry_.

After laying the body on a medical table in the Cave, he staggered upstairs and into Dick’s room. He got down on his knees and found the card. He smoothed it out, and left again, for his bedroom. He opened a desk drawer and found the anniversary gifts the Joker had given him. Most importantly, the letter. He read it.

 

_Dear Bruce,_

_I really wanted to get you something special for our anniversary, something romantic and heartwarming, but I had no idea what to get. So I got you a thank you card._

_Bruce, since the day I met you (even though I didn’t know your name at the time) I have been head-over-heels in love with you. I would do anything and everything for you. I would crawl to the ends of the earth just to see you for half a second._

_Thank you so, so much for everything you’ve done for me. You believed in me at my worst and brought me to my best. No matter what happens after this I will always, always love you._

_I would do anything for you. I would die a thousand times over for you._

_Always, Joker_

 

Bruce closed his eyes tightly, and felt something hot and wet slide down his cheek.

_I would die a thousand times over_.

And maybe he had.

He set the letter on his desk and took everything else downstairs, back into the Cave. He opened up his cabinet, found the file marked _Joker_ , and for the first time in over a year, he shoved the papers into it. He stormed back upstairs and sat down, reading and re-reading the letter.

Part of him wanted to tear it into pieces and burn it.

He just folded it up and tucked it back in his desk, and then he slept for two days straight. When he woke up, he took in a deep breath, and left for breakfast.

There was nothing special about that day.


End file.
